Fate Anew
by Wumbologist
Summary: Ten years after the true end of Unlimited Blade works, agents sent by the Mage's Association to end the Fuyuki Holy Grail Wars were assassinated, paving the way for the sixth Holy Grail War. Locked in a battle royale with foes old and new alike, can Rin successfully win the Grail? Since this is my first work, reviews of all kinds are welcome!
1. The End is the Beginning

A Caucasian man in a grey suit walks down the corridor of the London tower, silently mouthing the numbers of the various rooms as he passes by. Suddenly, his mustached face brightens up—at last, 1307. His gloved hand knocks on the door.

"So, the magic crest…come in," says a defeated voice from the room. The man opens the door, finding a classroom full of young adults studiously copying down a diagram drawn on the board, and a bespectacled man holding a piece of chalk. The man—the voice—asks about his intruder with a slight grimace.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Wagner?"

"Well, I was actually wondering—it's pronounced 'Vawgner,' by the way, Franz Wagner—if a Ms. Rin Tohsaka was present?" replies Mr. Wagner, eyes darting about the room until they settle upon a pigtailed Japanese woman rising out of her seat. As she mumbles something indiscernible to Mr. Wagner, he apologizes for interrupting and closes the door with a swift, fluid motion.

"What do you want?" she asks as they walk down the hall.

"I'm doing great, thanks for asking. Do you like my new hat?" he replies, pointing to a matching grey hat and the dirty blonde hair lying under it.

"That's not what I asked."

"Precisely, I'm answering the questions you _should_ be asking. And I should mention that I like it very much myself," he answers with a juvenile smugness.

"The feather's a bit much, if you ask me."

"Hmph, for a Japanese girl you're quite rude."

"Surely you didn't pull me out of class to talk about your hat?"

Mr. Wagner's grin disappears.

"Right. The Heaven's Feel has begun."

Rin stops walking.

"So soon? Weren't the Association agents just assassinated a week ago?"

"Keep walking. Two servants have already been summoned. I want to know when you were planning on summoning." The girl puts her fist to her chin and resumes walking.

"I guess I can do it tonight. My relic has already arrived in the mail and my magic is at its peak at two a.m." Franz' smile returns.

"Did you account for time zones?" A pause.

"Okay, so make that…five o'clock. I guess I'm going to have to turn Shirou down for dinner."

"Japanese, huh? Is he your boyfriend?" Rin's face turns red in response.

"H-He's just my apprentice. More importantly, I want to ask you about the two servants we know."

"Well, so far we know that—watch your step, these stairs are steep—Caster has been summoned by a relative unknown, Eiji Shimamura. He appears to run a dojo in Fuyuki in which he teaches aikido, karate, and kendo, and he's good at combat magic. My guess is that he'll use Caster for support like Kuzuki."

"Hm, he could be problematic; I don't like those martial arts types. Okay, what about the other servant?"

In response to this, Franz Wagner languidly removes his left glove and reveals a red symbol etched into his hand—interlacing spirals.

"You happen to be chatting with the Einzbern magus—Archer's master."

Rin's eyes widen.

"The Einzberns hired you?"

"Oh yes; they gave me an offer I couldn't refuse if I brought home the grail."

Rin nervously swallows.

"So, you want to kill me. I'll cooperate with you if it means you won't harm anyone."

"No, not at all. As the heir to the Tohsaka, you'd be foolish to underestimate. I meant to request an alliance." Rin pauses for a moment in relief.

"Is your servant with you?"

"Naturally—I'll even introduce you."

"Fair enough. I know a good coffee shop; we can discuss this alliance over tea."

"Now that's more like it."

* * *

"Ok, so I'm going to be summoning in two minutes. Leave me alone, and if I don't come out in 15 minutes, go through the protocol we discussed," Rin tells Shirou in an orderly, matter-of-fact matter.

"Rin, are you sure about this? You're really ready to abandon your studies just for this war?"

"I have to—I'm the successor of the Tohsaka line, and I have a moral obligation to destroy it once it's appeared." Rin knew that Shirou couldn't disagree with the second point; he, after all, entered the last one on moral reasons as well.

"…Fine. As long as you think it's right."

"I do." She closes the door behind her, relic in hand, and adds, "Besides, our flight is tomorrow night—you might want to pack."

"Eeeh?" is all he manages before she shuts the door behind her. Of all the rooms in her apartment, this is her favorite—her study. She stands atop a circle drawn on the floor with a hunk of rock in the center, and, when the clock's hand points directly upward, begins chanting.

"_I hereby propose,_

_My will shall create thy body,_

_And thy sword shall create my fate,_

_Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail,_

_If thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me._"

The circle begins to brilliantly glow. Rin continues.

"_I hereby swear,_

_I will be all that is good in the eternal world._

_I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world._

_Thou, of the heavenly sword, come forth from the circle of constraint!_"

A burst of light emanates from the room, and a giant thud echoes through the apartment. This time, her new servant appears directly on the circle, taking the place of the relic—a tall, blonde man, adorned in silver, gold-trimmed armor, a cape decorated with a cross, and a giant, bejeweled sword at his hip. He turns to Rin.

"Are you my master?"

Rin nods. The servant kneels on one foot.

"Very well. I am Roland, highest paladin under Charlemagne, and the servant Saber. I pledge my sword to you, and together we will seek the grail."

* * *

Franz, idly flipping through the channels, lies sideways on his hotel bed. Eventually he hits the power button and lies back on the mattress.

"Archer," he calls to the empty room. "Let's chat for a bit."

In response, a man materializes in the room. With thick, short, brown hair and a matching beard, he is adorned with minimalistic armor, a shortsword at his side, and a simplistically regal bow slung over his back, all complementing his well-toned body. Franz frowns.

"Every time I see you, I always expect a lot more pizzazz. You're a heroic spirit, why not show it?"

"Unlike you, I don't care for such trivialities." His curt answer makes Franz smile again.

"Well, I guess I should've expected as much when I summoned you. After all, you were never much of the flashy type in your legend, but I originally blamed the translation I read."

"Did you have a purpose in mind, sir? Or should I go back to standing guard?" he asks, clearly disinterested.

"No, I wanted to chat with you about that Tohsaka girl. What do you think about her?" The servant considers his words before answering.

"She's curious. From what I saw, she didn't exhibit much of the foolhardiness that girls of her age tend to, although she is quite brazen in her speech. Both her experience and talent are quite evident, and she has a good sense of instinct. This, combined with the fact that she's been a Holy Grail War participant before makes her a powerful ally. You chose well, Franz." This makes Franz beam even wider.

"Your insight is excellent as always, Archer. I can now see that Rin wasn't the only good choice I made this war."

"You're too kind," he states, implying a literal interpretation.


	2. A Question of Merit

A wrinkly, contorted shell of a man descends the stairs to his basement—Zouken Matou. In his right hand he holds a helmet with large, red (albeit faded) plumage, and in his left hand his cane, which rhythmically hits the stone floor as he descends. While Sakura lies unconscious to his right, he pays her no heed; it's only expected that the worms are at work. His feet touch the basement floor, and he slowly hobbles over to a circle drawn in a crimson fluid.

_I should never have left the Grail to that Shinji failure. If you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself_, he thinks to himself. He places the helmet in the center of the circle and takes his place outside it. His hand outstretched, he mutters the incantation to himself, and within seconds a burst of powerful light explodes from the circle and a deafening thud echoes through the house. Zouken collapses due to the fatigue and the newfound strain on his circuits, and lifts his head to behold a giant, clad in brilliant Greek armor and a spear in hand, its body obscured by a thick black mist. A red emblem brands itself on his hand, and his new giant roars, a bellow only possible for a demigod. Berserker is summoned.

* * *

A black flash appears across the night sky—no, not a flash, for a flash implies brilliance—a deft spark of movement hardly evident to passersby. The figure clad in black need not be even introduced—Assassin, servant of the dagger. His garb clouds his face rather than a skull mask, and, though only his eyes are visible, it is clear that he isn't Hassan-i-Sabah but someone else entirely.

This servant didn't move without purpose; his master had ordered him to perform some reconnaissance on Caster's master and, if possible, eliminate him. He had his own ideas as to why he had selected Caster's master as the first to be investigated, but he dared not question his master's orders.

After jumping from building to building, he has at last found his target. There is, of course, a boundary field, but no field means anything to Assassin. Bypassing it with ease, he descends upon what must have been a dojo and sneaks through an open window. His hand reaching for the blade at his waist, he enters a giant room most likely used for training, carefully placing his foot one after the other upon the ground so as to not create a sound. His head pans across the room but finds not a trace of life. He returns the blade to its sheath when…

_Ding!_

Assassin parries an unseen blow from overhead. He assumes a stance and finds a man with thin, black hair and a red kendo robe holding a katana in front of his body. He must have jumped from the ceiling. The man doesn't introduce himself—a horizontal slash, a vertical chop, a jab aimed at Assassin's feet all explode out of the man's sword with fatal speed and dexterity. After narrowly avoiding a series of perfectly executed strokes, Assassin jumps away from his assailant.

"You must be Caster's master," Assassin exclaims. "I suppose this is good; my work is cut out for me." The boast is met with a grin, and the two resume exchanging blows.

The master proves more than a match for Assassin, whose confidence quickly dissipates. Each of Assassin's movements is predicted perfectly; his tricks and aces in the hole are parried with ease by the man—he who is not even the servant! Assassin bites his lip. _This isn't good; it's like he's always a step ahead of me. More importantly, how did he know I was coming in the first place?_

"Man, you really are as good as the legends say," the man exclaims. "I should expect no less from Hattori Hanzo."

Assassin's eyes widen. He's now not only predicting his arrival and every move, but also knows his identity? He has no alternative; he must retreat.

His eyes dart for a window, a door—anything that can aid him in his escape. He settles upon a screen door, which he slices and jumps through in a fluid motion. Now outside, Assassin sprints like he's never done before.

But what's this? There's a barrier in his way—an invisible field that precludes his escape. This should be solvable for Assassin, but the barrier is absolutely airtight. A sinking emotion consumes his heart.

"Territory Creation," explains the master as he coolly walks through the door newly splintered. "The ability to build special terrain in the user's favor—it's Caster's class ability. This barrier is a unique one; it lets you in but doesn't let you out."

Assassin turns around to face his opponent.

"So, what you're saying is that we're locked in a battle to the death."

The man reassumes his stance and grins widely.

"Precisely."

* * *

Assassin's master leans back in her recliner. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, from which she retrieves a cigarette that she places daintily in her lipsticked mouth. Rather than using a lighter, she snaps her fingers and lights the cigarette with her thumb, now immersed in a blue flame. Taking a drag, she props her head with her left hand, making the command spell on her right hand completely visible. Her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, she wears a black duster stained in fresh blood and a pair of expensive-looking high heels. A top Enforcer of the Mage's Association, Akiko Sakamoto was not to be trifled with.

The recliner is not hers. Noting that staying in a hotel was both costly and territorially disadvantageous, she had Assassin scout for real estate and ultimately selected this house, swiftly disposing of its occupants and making it her new base of operations. The only things that belong to her in this house was the cigarette in her mouth and the servant standing watch.

A man materializes in the room. Tanned with ethnicity, he wears light chain mail and keeps a curved shortsword—his scimitar—at his side. His handsome face bears a thick, black beard and he stands, proud and regal, although his current countenance is one of concern. Akiko gives him a sidelong glance.

"What is it, Rider? Why aren't you keeping watch?"

"Master, I believe Assassin requires backup. I don't believe Caster's master is someone we should underestimate."

"Why put you at risk to rescue someone like Assassin? He's just useful for espionage."

"But…"

"Rider, you've only been under my command for a short period of time, so you may not be accustomed to my style, but let me make a few things clear. First, my orders are law. They are not to be questioned under any circumstance, and you are to obey them promptly and zealously. Second, Assassin is just a pawn. He's not even worth the backup you'd provide. He's useful for getting rid of pesky masters, and if he fails at that then he's a failure, plain and simple.

"Besides, I have another job for you. The seventh master just arrived at the Fuyuki airport, Lancer's no doubt. Investigate him and his master if possible."

"…Yes, ma'am."

Rider takes a quick bow before vanishing. _Why was my master eliminated by such a person_, he can't help but wonder to himself. He decides that, for now, he'll do as she says.


	3. Serendipitous Encounters

"What the fuck? You mean we're being spied on?" shouts Bai Xue in Mandarin Chinese as he strolls down to the baggage claim of the Fuyuki airport. A young man in his 20s and a Tsinghua University dropout, he pulls his suitcase behind him while pretending to talk into his cell phone, reasoning that nobody could either understand him or see the dematerialized servant at his side.

"Yeah," lackadaisically replied Lancer. "A servant, too. What do you think—should we lure him to a secluded area and fight?"

Bai Xue furrows his brow. After a nasty layover in Narita, he doesn't feel quite up to a battle of servants and would rather get to his hotel.

"Shit. Is his master with him?"

"I can't say for sure. Personally, I think we should kick his ass."

Bai Xue ponders while walking. He had known that this would be a cutthroat battle between world-class magi—it is why he joined, after all—but couldn't they at least let him settle in first? It's a long way from Beijing, you know!

"I don't think that's a good idea. Considering how little we know about the other masters, we should just get to the hotel and make plans in the morning. Besides, I slept on my neck real funny on the way here; I'm not exactly in a fighting mood."

"C'mon, you're no fun. Unless he's Archer, he's too far away from his master to be using any complex Noble Phantasms, and I've been itching to kick some servant ass ever since I got here! _I_ say that if you want to learn about the other servants, you should go ahead and fight them!"

"Don't get cocky. We have no idea who he even is!"

"Do you honestly think I could lose to anyone?"

His master considers this for a moment, but shakes his head as if dispelling something.

"Stop infecting me with your bullshit. While you're clearly a top-notch servant, this guy could be too. Look, our hotel is in a crowded place, and as long as we lay low…"

"So you're saying we won't fight him?!"

"Yes! Now will you please just shut up until we get to the hotel?"

"…Fine. You're no fun, you know that?"

"Trust me, I know," he replies bitterly.

* * *

Another master arrives at the Fuyuki airport. Sporting long, black hair and stockings, she and her red-haired apprentice exit the aircraft and similarly walk towards baggage claim.

"So Saber, what did you think of your first flying experience?" asks Rin into her cellphone in a manner similar to Bai Xue.

"Dreadful," replies a deep voice. "That nightmare called 'Narita' is especially horrendous."

"Oh, don't even get me started! How does a flight get delayed _two whole hours_? And could they honestly not get us business class—Tokyo to London should not be spent in economy! I'll bet Franz is already here in his private jet!"

"You guys complain too much," Shirou chimes in. "Look, on our budget you should be glad we even got here at all, let alone complaining about legroom."

Rin replies with an indignant scowl the opposite direction, the sort she gives when wrong but too proud to admit it. As the two (three) descend the escalator to baggage claim, Rin's face transforms from stubborn pride to alarm.

"Saber, Shirou, can you feel it?"

"Mm."

"Yes."

The three detected the presence of another servant nearby—no, two!

"This is bad. They're probably cooperating."

"What should we do?" inquires Shirou.

"Just act normal. They can't attack us since we're in a crowded area, so their goal is most likely espionage, meaning we can't give away any information." She pulls a pair of leather gloves from her pocket and delicately slides them over her fingers, ostensibly to hide her command spell. This receives a nod from Shirou.

"Just act normal," she repeats as they exit the escalator.

* * *

"_FUCK!_ Now there are two servants," shouts Bai Xue into his cell phone. This outburst turns a few heads, but they ultimately return to waiting for their luggage, pretending it never happened out of politeness and ignorance of Chinese language.

"_EVEN BETTER!_ Two of our prey have come to us, and it's not even the first day—man, I knew this day would pick up!"

"No, shut up! I swear to god I will haul your ass out of here peacefully and quietly and I'll use a command spell if I have to! Please, for once in your god damned life, _shut up!_" This receives even more turned heads; this man is clearly not privy to Japanese etiquette.

"Alright, alright! I'll play nice for now, but you have to _promise_ me I'll get to fight a servant tomorrow." The voice's master sighs in relief.

"Sure. At this point, I'll promise you anything. Now c'mon, let's catch a cab." Bai Xue turns his head, luggage in hand, and finds the source of the magic, presumably a master, walking alongside some red-haired guy, presumably her bodyguard, as they claim their luggage at a faraway carousel.

"Do you see her, Lancer? That's our enemy."

"Yeah, I see her. She could definitely be a problem."

"I agree. She's giving off immense traces of magical energy. We better watch our backs."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"But she is a fucking babe, huh?"

"You had to say it."

* * *

Now _this_ was an interesting development. Luck had it that he would find not one but _two_ masters at the airport doing reconnaissance.

"Bai Xue and Rin Tohsaka, huh?" Rider mutters. _I've got to report this back to my master_, he thinks. _Their servants give off massive magical energy, and they could be working together to ambush me._

He wastes no time—jumping from the rafter from which he had been hiding until now, he lands upon a horse, his favored steed in life, and takes off like a bullet, vanishing in the distance.

* * *

Steel clashes against steel. Assassin and his opponent, complementary blurs of deadly, dexterous technique, strike and counter, strike and counter, in a fevered dance of awe-inspiring fatal intent. Assassin has since adopted himself to his assailant's unique style, and the two have been locked in such a stalemate for roughly an hour.

A shuriken whizzes past the ear of Eiji Shimamura, Caster's master, who quickly dodges and withdraws the opposite direction.

"I've never heard of a master attacking a servant," taunts Assassin. "Your Caster must be quite the pushover."

"Hardly," replies Eiji, with a boyish grin. "He's capable of sorcery not even acknowledged by the Association—the sixth true magic."

Assassin's eyes widen. _The sixth magic?_

"Anyway," Eiji says offhandedly while sheathing his blade. "I really enjoyed our sparring, but I must depart for now. There really is nothing like facing a worthy opponent."

"Wait!" cries Assassin.

His plea comes too late, for Eiji Shimamura disappears into the room behind him and jumps through the window. Bypassing his barrier without so much as a flinch, he disappears into the forest behind him, leaving Assassin alone in his bubble.

It comes not a moment too soon. Berserker, in all his maddened glory, busts down the dojo wall with a swipe of his hand, nearly foaming at the mouth with maddened zeal, and his master, Zouken Matou, follows suit, hobbling in contrast to his charging servant.

"Hm? There's only one of you?" asks Zouken. "And here I was thinking I could eliminate two of you. Oh well—Berserker?"

The giant turns to his master, who points at Assassin.

"Kill that servant."

Berserker roars with delight.


	4. A Tale Told by an Idiot

Eiji Shimamura expertly traverses the woods, leaping from branch to branch with powerful strides strengthened by magical energy, making what would constitute a perilous, daylong hike but minutes long. Soon, jumping down from a tree, he arrives at his destination, an abandoned woodened shack. He opens the door.

"Caster, are you here?" he asks to the dark room.

"Of course," says a hoarse voice. A wrinkled man whose years far exceed the constraints of normal mortality emerges from the shadows, leaning heavily on a cane of ancient olive wood and a crow perched on his shoulder.

"You're incredible, Caster. It all happened exactly as you said it would, down to the strokes of his sword."

"Did you ever doubt me, boy? I am a clairvoyant from the age of the gods, the greatest seer in history."

"Not at all. You've more than proven your merit to me, and I'm truly grateful." Eiji gives a polite bow, to which his servant gives a pleased nod and strokes his beard thoughtfully.

"I am glad to see that respect for the elderly has survived, if nothing else from my time has," replies Caster.

The crow on his shoulder caws, and the joy from his face disappears.

"Eiji, step away from the window on my mark."

Eiji's eyes widen, but he nods in understanding.

"…Okay."

Silence rules the room for a moment.

"Now."

Eiji ducks and rolls out of the way as long, thin projectiles break the window and fire into the wall behind him—arrows, with points of molten metal. Archer has arrived.

"Escape out the window, as he's already readied a shot at the door. From there run around the right side of the house and flee. Take off to the northeast; ignore your instincts. He's prepared a trap to the southwest, the direction he anticipates you'll flee," Caster commands. "There you'll find a hotel; stay there for the night and I'll meet you. Now go!"

"What will you do?"

"Just go! I can hold off Archer by myself."

His master nods and obeys perfectly. Caster slowly walks towards the door and opens it, and is met with Archer holding him at arrowpoint, using a giant longbow, and his master standing beside him in a striped suit, smoking a cigarette. Archer's face turns to one of consternation.

"Of all people…it had to be you," Archer mutters. Franz blows some smoke into the wind.

"You know this guy, Archer?"

"Yes." He lowers his bow. "You paid me a favor I can never repay; I am forever in your debt."

"It was no favor at all, great king."

Archer turns his back to the old man, and puts his bow back across his back.

"Go. I'm not going to fight you today, but next time we meet it will be as enemies." Caster smiles in response.

"Then consider your debt repaid," he replies. With that, the sorcerer of prophecy begins to hobble into the thicket. Archer turns to his master.

"If you want me to pursue him, you'll need to use a command spell," he plainly states to Franz. Franz shrugs and grins.

"If you say so, Archer." The servant sighs with relief.

"Thank you for understand…" Archer's body tenses up, and a great spear appears in his hand.

"Then by the power of my command spell, I order you to pierce Caster's heart," commands Franz as a crimson spiral fades from his outstretched hand.

"No…No!" cries Archer out of shock and dismay respectively, visibly resisting against the red flux tugging at his shoulder to throw a lance into the man's heart. Pain etches across the servant's face; he coughs blood.

"I…won't…do it!" he shouts. _Damn that magic resistance of his_, thinks Franz. _I knew it would be heightened, but I didn't expect it to be on par with Saber._

"Then by the order of my second command spell, pierce Caster's heart."

A heavy spear flies from Archer's hand.

* * *

"_I've done it! I've summoned a servant!" exclaims a robed man with a sword at his waist. That's the first thing I remember after dying—showing up again in this world as a heroic spirit. As influx of modern knowledge pours into my brain, the crow at my shoulder caws._

"_This man, Eiji Shimamura, is your master," says the crow. "You are to fight in the Holy Grail War and ultimately die early; there is nothing you can do."_

_I accept this reality as I have done with all my previous prophecies. I, unlike that wretch Creon, heed the words of the gods. Death, as I recall, is really not so hard._

"_Young man—are you not Eiji Shimamura, my master?" I inquire, already knowing the answer._

"_Yes. Welcome to the modern world."_

"_You seek the Grail with pure intentions; such a person is most definitely fit to be my master," I tell him. I would not fight for anyone who sought it for evil purposes._

"_Amazing—you really are clairvoyant. If you can predict the future, then there's no way we can lose the war!" I put on a happy front and reassure him of our certain victory, and begin crafting the best way to leave this Earth in my mind. I coldly remember the truth of prophecy, that to foresee doom is not to preclude it._

* * *

The shaft flies through Caster's chest. It wasn't a great Noble Phantasm, but it was a surely fatal wound. Comprehending what has happened with a sorrowful countenance, he rushes to the man newly slain, grasping his body.

"I'm sorry, Cas—no, Tiresias. I couldn't resist two command spells."

"I know," gasps the man whose soul was escaping. "I am glad to have died at your hands, great king." The servant, soaking in the brine of his leaking bodily fluids, closed his eyes, and his body disappears from the World, but before that, it's worth noting, he recalls a man in winged sandals touching his nose with a wand.

* * *

_Ugh, Shirou's hugging all the covers_, Rin thinks groggily as she wakes up in the middle of the night. She's been having trouble sleeping—perhaps it's this futon Fujimura-sensei gave them.

She'll get a drink of water. As she slowly exits the futon and opens the sliding door to the main hallway, the hallway of that house in which they weathered a similar war so many years ago, silently pondering if she remembers the way, Rin sleepily makes her way to the kitchen and finds Saber, staring out their kitchen window at the shed.

"Standing guard?" asks the master to her servant.

"Yes, just as you ordered."

"Keep up the good work," she offers as she opens the cabinet in search of a cup.

"Rin."

"What is it?"

"Do you know what it is that I find most deplorable about war?"

Rin turns her head to face her servant.

"What?"

Saber's gaze turns back to the shed.

"The transformation of man into machine."


	5. He Who Gazes Into the Abyss

Archer feels the servant in his hands vanish, and tears begin to eclipse his eyes.

"Tiresias…if only I could have given you a proper burial," he mutters. "It must be dreadful to make the voyage twice."

"Archer, it's getting late. Why don't we leave?" Archer turns towards his master.

"I'm relinquishing you as my master. You're a disgusting man," shouts Archer at Franz. "I'm going to find Caster's master and ask for his forgiveness, and then I'll obtain the Grail under his leadership. I've had it with you." Franz furrows his brow, but ultimately smiles and releases a sigh.

"Sorry, but I can't allow that. I still have a command spell, remember?"

"I can resist it."

"That's true; you probably can. But you didn't think I enter this war without some tools of coercion, did you?"

"You can't mean…"

"By the order of my third command spell, I command you to swear an oath of unbinding loyalty to me by the River Styx."

Red plasma began burning the inside of Archer's mouth, wrapping and coiling around his tongue to articulate the most ancient of geisses. Archer can resist it easily enough, but soon instead notices the color of his master's eyes. His master has very pretty, very beautiful eyes. How has he never noticed it before? Why, the indigo tint of his iris, he could very well lose himself in…

"I swear by the River Styx to obey your every order, and to protect your life with my own," Archer quickly blurts. Realization hits him as the pain fades away—what did he just say?

"Very good, Archer. You must always remember that you are my servant, and nobody else's, got it?" Archer grits his teeth—Mystic Eyes.

* * *

Assassin can't believe his eyes. He knew Berserker would be a tough opponent, but he didn't expect him to be quite like this. He used every trick he had up his sleeve—his hidden weapons, the pressure point jabs—he even used his most powerful noble phantasm, his personal spear, called its name, revealed his identity, and threw it directly into Berserker's sternum…but it was like throwing at a brick wall!

"Not even that can take you down, huh?" he mutters, clutching his side seeping blood. He reckons he's about to meet his end.

"No. No weapon on Earth can harm Berserker," responds Berserker's master, Zouken Matou. "You probably should've aimed lower, though."

"Lower?"

"Berserker, swat that fly for me," orders the master. "His existence is no longer interesting." The servant responds with a mighty howl and charges at Assassin, spear in hand, and the crippled Assassin stares upwards, beholding the man who will take his life.

* * *

"_Servant Assassin, welcome. I am Akiko Sakamoto, and you are my servant in this Holy Grail War," says a woman in black clothes to me. I stare dumbfounded at my new lord and the circle below me, but accept the turn of events. That was why I signed up for this war, anyway—without a lord and master, I have no identity._

"_Very well. I am Hattori Hanzo, and I pledge my undying loyalty to you until I die." I kneel in Japanese style, prostrated and staring humbly at the ground._

"_I'm sure you're already aware of this, but you are to obey my every order without any hint of question. Understood?"_

"_Yes," I reply. _This is a master suited for me_, I think to myself._

"_Good. Then to prove your loyalty, slice off your right pinky."_

"_Understood," I reply. I don't even have to think about it; I draw my knife, lay my hand on the ground, and send the blade down. It hurts, but I can bear the pain._

"_Here," my new lord tells me, handing me gauze and disinfectant. "Treat your wound. I find your loyalty truly outstanding."_

"_Thank you," I reply, wrapping the gauze around my newfound knob. The blood seeps through, but it should stop soon._

"_I'll be in the other room; stand by for further instruction."_

"_Yes, ma'am."_

_The woman—I believe she said her name was Akiko Sakamoto—walks off into the next room. I do as she says and sit silently, awaiting orders. My finger clots in a matter of minutes; her prana, I can't help but notice, is outstanding._

_Roughly fifteen minutes later she returns with a map and orders for me to kill a master. I memorize the house's blueprints and location, and take off immediately. I have some worries about the ease with which I can kill a master undetected, but it never occurs to me to question Akiko's orders._

_I arrive at a massive mansion in the middle of the woods, the Einzbern mansion as I was told. There is an elaborate-looking gate overlooking a beautiful garden of a front lawn in which two servants are clashing swords—a man on horseback and a bearded man with a bow on his back, something about the servant on the horse—presumably Rider— needing to reach his master; to be honest, it wasn't really relevant to my mission so I didn't give it a whole lot of thought._ _Scaling the wall, and slinking through the window undetected, I lightly tiptoe down the stairs, halls, and corridors, and eventually find my target._

_He, a Japanese-looking man holding a glass of wine, is seated at a massive table discussing an alliance with a blond man in a striped suit seated across from him. The blond man notices me, but pays me no heed as I walk behind the Japanese man and slide my blade through his ribs, muffling his shrieks with the other hand._

"_Sorry, Yuuta," says the blond man. "But your bid for the grail ends here." He then pries the glass of wine from his dying hand, swirls it about in the glass, and takes a sip, smiling pleasantly._

"_Positively wonderful. I've never tasted a better Cabernet."_

"_You bastard…why?" stammers my target. I had since removed my hand, seeing as it didn't matter if he screamed or not._

"_Well, I usually prefer whites, so my scope is quite limited…—OH! You meant the—yeah, sorry about that, but I'm really after your command spells." He then removes a hunting knife from his coat pocket, and begins to saw off the man's hand, seemingly oblivious to his pathetic squeals of pain. It saddens me, so I stab him through the scalp. He dies on impact, right when the blond man finishes removing his hand, dripping blood. The man makes a disgusted face._

"_Ew. You think I'd be used to this by now, wouldn't you?" he asks me, as he places the hand into a paper bag with two fingers and wipes his hands on the tablecloth. "Well, in any case, I got what I came for and, unless I'm mistaken, your master should be waiting outside with a new servant." I nod and make my way to the front door, and find Akiko waiting for me._

"_Did Franz get his precious command spells?" she asks me. _

_I nod._

"_Good. Then we're done here. Let's go, Rider." A new servant materializes next to her, and begrudgingly nods in agreement. Taking note of what has transpired today, I tacitly praise my master's cunning. To die by her orders, in my opinion, would be nothing short of an honor._

* * *

Sunshine leaks through the curtains. Bai Xue groggily opens his eyes, and then sinks below the covers. If it's morning already, then that means Lancer…

"WAKE UP! IT'S TIME TO GET UP!" shouts the servant.

"Give me ten more minutes," protests his master, pulling the covers over his head and sinking into his pillow.

"NO! GET UP _NOW_!" cries the servant, ripping the covers off his now shivering master.

"ALRIGHT! YOU WIN!" retorts the defeated Bai Xue. Bai Xue looks at his servant, not in spirit form like the asked, but rather in all his glory. His form is unlike the other servants—his hairy face—no, furry—hardly seems human, yet his stout frame supports ancient jade armor, and from his backside emerges a tail, childishly swinging back and forth in anticipation. He (perhaps "it"?) reaches behind his ear and pulls from it a red toothpick, which instantly grows into a massive bow staff, gilded with gold at the tips.

"Now," he says boastfully. "Where is the servant called 'Saber'?"


	6. To Raise Lazarus

"Hey Dad, why are we waiting in a hotel room?" inquired a young boy to his father.

"Well, you know that nice old man who's been staying with us the past few weeks?" replied the father, Eiji Shimamura.

"Yeah."

"Well, he told me to meet him here. He should arrive any minute now."

"Why a hotel?"

"Because…" A sudden realization cuts off Eiji's circumlocution. He feels a tingling sensation on his hand—the dissipation of a command spell. He holds his hand to the light, rising from his chair as he gazes in awe and disbelief at the disappearance of his brand, his proof of right to participation.

"Dad, is something wrong?" He turns to his son and a solemn look takes hold of his face.

"Oh, it's nothing. But I think Caster-san might be a bit late."

"How come?"

"…I'll tell you in the morning."

* * *

As the sun rises and shines through the shades, Rin awakes from her slumber, rising from her futon and outstretching her arms so as to alleviate the tension in her muscles. She turns to her redheaded companion, and begins shaking his shoulder.

"Hey, wake up."

"Yes, Saber, it's really me…"

"SHIROU!" she shouts. He nearly leaps out of the futon, fully alert, but realizes the reality of the situation.

"Why'd you have to wake me up like that? I was having a nice dream, you know."

"Yeah, a little _too_ nice if you ask me. Are you and Saber getting along so well that you would already dream about him?" she asks accusatively. He blushes in response.

"Uh, yeah. We spar every day, so I guess it's…" He doesn't finish his alibi due to the pillow that smacks across his jaw.

"Don't give me that. I know very well that you were dreaming about…"

_Ringaling, ringaling,_ goes a tone beside the futon. Rin turns to her cell phone, blinking and beeping so as to convey that it has received a text message. She opens it with a flick.

_Meet at bridge at midnight. Bring Saber with you. I fight to kill._

Rin scowls.

"Change of plans, Shirou. Looks like we've already been challenged."

Shirou's face reads shock, but he nods in agreement.

"I'll let Saber know," he replies. "Should I tell Franz as well?" Rin puts her hand to her chin.

"I guess we should. He is our ally, after all."

"Alright, then I'll call him."

As Shirou leaves the room, phone in hand, Rin ponders for a moment. Just what is it about that guy that rubs him the wrong way?

* * *

Worms squirmed inside the man's skin, twisting, flipping, flopping, quivering, devouring—the worms violated the man as if he was soil. He tried to scream, but worms had begun consuming his vocal cords, and each time he vomited he found, rather than food, even more worms, swimming in the stomach acid like a man in a chlorinated pool. He all but manages a pathetic gasp—one might be able to imagine how it feels to be consumed alive, but to be eaten _internally_—to have one's magical energy consumed—represents a very special, unfathomable hell.

Over the vegetable, struggling desperately on his belly, stands Zouken Matou, pleasantly smiling.

"Mm. Can you feel it, Berserker? Your master is giving you great magical energy."

The servant grunts in pleasure.

"With a surplus like this, even a Rank A Noble Phantasm should bounce right off you. We've won this war, Berserker."

He again grunts. Zouken Matou turns to his writhing victim.

"You're still alive, huh? Unbelievable." He pokes him with his cane.

"Well, all the better for me and Berserker. The more you struggle, the more energy you produce." As Zouken chuckles, the man in black rolls onto his back. His priestly collar is exposed.

"I've always thought it was pointless to have some church nobody 'oversee' things. I should've done this ages ago."

The man stops moving, and a powerful silence takes hold of the church, save Berserker's heavy breathing.

"Well, Berserker, shall we…"

"UNFORGIVABLE!" shouts an armored man kicking down the church door. "How dare any man show such a blatant disregard for God's law?" Zouken faces the intruder and grins.

"Well, it appears that a bird has fallen into my snare. Come now, Rider, are you truly this rash in your decision-making?"

"SHUT UP! I entered this war to stop people like you, and don't think I can't do it!" He jumps, and a massive, white stallion appears under him. "Your bid for the grail ends here." Zouken chuckles.

"Very well, Rider. We'll fight you right here, won't we Berserker?" Berserker releases a mighty cry, as if to affirm him. Rider makes as if to charge, but, at the last minute, tugs on the reins to halt his steed. His face contorts as he yells at the stars.

"Damn it! Why must you stop me now? Are you that unassured of victory?" Rider turns back to Zouken.

"My master is calling me back for now, but know this—we will finish this duel." Zouken grins.

"Of course. I'm always ready when you're willing to die." Rider scowls, and turns his horse the opposite direction as they dissipate into the air.

_Who knew there was so much morality in this war_, Zouken thinks.

* * *

"Got it…Understood…Okay, I'll see you then. Oh, and while I have you on line, is Rin your…" The line goes dead before Franz can finish teasing Shirou. "Jesus, I don't think I'm ever going to understand Japanese people. Archer, did you catch all that?"

"The bridge at midnight, right? I could hear the conversation."

"Good, so you're up to speed." Franz crosses his legs and leans back in his chair, talking to the air around him. "So, what do you think we should do?"

"Well, we have an alliance with Rin, so…" Archer suddenly remembers something. "But that doesn't matter much to you, does it?"

"Man, you know me too well, Archer."

"Regrettably," Archer adds.

"But the question remains—should we back up Rin, not get involved, or ambush them?" A pause ensues before Archer replies.

"We should back up Rin. Saber and I together should be able to take down almost anyone, and the same reasons that made you solidify that alliance in the first place—namely the strength of her servant, and the combined abilities of both his master and her companion, who reportedly was able to singlehandedly take out a servant—are important to note. If we want to use their talents to our advantage rather than against us, we need to make them believe we'll honor their summons if requested. It would also be relatively low-risk due to my Independent Action, which would allow me to fight without putting you in danger and my skill in ranged attacks, which precludes any possible melee retaliation that any servant could offer." Archer despises that his advice is being used for such a man, but remains powerless to the oath he swore.

"Those are good points, as usual, Archer. Your oratory skills truly are the stuff of legend. Very well, let's back up Rin." Archer replies with silence.

* * *

"So, Caster-san went back to Greece?"

"Yes. He had to go back on business, but he told me to tell you goodbye."

The boy's gaze shifts downward as he asks the next question of his father.

"…Is he ever coming back?"

"…No," Eiji replies as he refills Tarou's tea, eventually sitting back down on a cushion at their Japanese-style table. After last night's stay at the hotel, they had returned to their humble home. "He's not coming back."

"…So you've lost the Holy Grail War?"

"…Yes. It was foolish of me to think that seeing the future would mean creating the future." Tears begin to cloud the boy's vision, and he wipes them aside with the back of his palm.

"…So Mom's really gone then?"

"…No. I love Mommy too, and I swear I'll bring her back. I'm not done yet."


	7. The Stuff of Legend

The minute hand points directly upward on Rin's watch—12 midnight in Fuyuki City. Rin, her hair and scarlet robe sighing with the sea breeze, stands atop the massive red bridge dividing the city, with her two male compatriots beside her, garbed in street clothes. Shirou is the first to speak.

"It's twelve. They should be here, right?"

"Don't be so impatient, boy," replies Saber. "The day just changed but a second ago."

Rin's phone vibrates. She coolly removes the threadbare device from her pocket and flicks it open.

"Hello?"

"Rin Tohsaka, right? Nice to meet you; I'm the guy who challenged you."

"I could hardly tell," she remarks sarcastically. "You're the Chinese guy who was yelling in the airport, right? I have your name written down somewhere, but I forgot how to pronounce it. I think I'll just call you 'Shirayuki.'" [author's note: This is the Japanese pronunciation of "Bai Xue."]

"Man, and here I was thinking Japanese girls were supposed to be all cute and submissive. No offence, but you kind of sound like a bitch."

"Even a Japanese girl would slap you for a comment like that. Did the Gao Kao not test you on manners?"

Rin can feel the aminosity through the cell phone.

"Fuck, you're really pissing me off. I was going to offer you a last chance to surrender and discuss terms, but I think I'm just going to let my servant beat the shit out of you up instead."

"I would've turned you down anyway."

"Fine, you did this to yourself. LANCER!" he faintly shouts away from the phone.

"Yeah?" replies a barely discernible voice.

"Go."

"FUCK YEAH! LET'S DO THIS!"

The line goes dead. Rin closes the phone, and slips it back into her pocket.

"Saber, you'll engage the servant, whomever it may be. Don't be afraid of giving it your all, but wait for my signal before using _that_ Noble Phantasm."

"Understood."

"Shirou, I want you to track down the master; considering the order in which he took out my familiars, he's most likely hiding in a building to the south."

"Got it."

Shirou walks toward the ladder and begins climbing down, and Saber's armor appears in a golden flash. He draws the legendary sword, and assumes a stance, holding the hefty silver blade in front of him.

Rin hardly has time to react. She and Saber dart to their side as a giant, crimson beam the size of a telephone pole slams against the space they inhabited not a moment earlier. Rin turns to face the origin—a furry servant clad in jade.

"I—is that a tail?" she stammers in amazement.

"RIN!" exclaims Saber as she tackes her to the ground, narrowly avoiding the lethal sideswipe. "Go down that ladder and find somewhere to hide—I can't constantly worry about your safety while fighting!" The ordinarily proud Rin nods without objection, dashing for the escape ladder. Saber turns to face his new opponent.

"Now," he says. "Let us duel."

"You have no idea how long I've been itching to hear those words."

This time, Saber makes the first move. He lunges forward and executes a series of slashes—up, left, thrust, cross, upper—all with deadly accuracy and precision, and all parried with ease by Lancer, whose weapon has since decreased in size to more closely resemble a bowstaff.

Stab! Parry. Lunge! Parry. Swipe! Parry. Disarm! Parry.

Lancer shows an opening—Saber seizes it and leaves his feet, aiming for his exposed shoulder blade!

Lancer dodges acrobatically, swinging around the pole upon which they stood with his tail and connecting Saber's ribs to his staff with a perfect swing.

_BIFF!_ Saber flies like a baseball and lands against a metal pole, making an indent like an oversized bullet.

_What in God's name was that_, thinks Saber, wincing in pain. _Even with my armor, a blunt object did this much? That staff must have the weight of an automobile!_

Lancer doesn't let up-Saber barely parries a series of jabs at his ribs before jumping from the bridge, and landing on the road under him.

_Hmph, he's smarter than he looks_, thinks Lancer. _He knows I have the territorial advantage on the bridge._

Lancer leaps in pursuit, slamming his staff into the ground and quaking the Earth beneath it, which nearly causes Saber to lose his footing. Lancer, seizing the opportunity, swipes at his knees. Saber falls to the ground; Lancer raises his staff for a final blow.

"NOW, FRANZ!" cries a voice from the bridge, Rin's.

"ARCHER!"

A volley of arrows rains upon Lancer, who stares in bewilderment.

* * *

A young, red-haired man dashes down a dark alley, twin swords in hand—Shirou Emiya. He approaches a dead end and stops running, instead calling to the shadows.

"It's over, Shirayuki. At least reveal yourself for our duel."

"God damn you Japs, THAT ISN'T MY FUCKING NAME!" replies a voice. Shirou doubles over in newfound abdominal pain and drops his swords; something has knocked the wind out of him, and he finds trouble breathing. That something next stomps his feet, strikes his solar plexus, and boxes his ears, and all Shirou can do is feebly raise his arms in defense.

_Damn it_, thinks Shirou. _How the hell can I fight someone I can't even see?_

"Those fancy fucking swords aren't doing you much good now, are they?" taunts the voice. "It's really a shame, with projection ability like that I at least expected a FIGHT!" With that final word, a blow lands on Shirou's cheekbone, and blood spurts out.

"You're going to regret that," manages Shirou through clutched teeth, his eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to locate his assailant.

"Oh real-"

The voice doesn't finish, as Shirou places a perfect roundhouse in the direction of the target. Bai Xue falls over, although Shirou himself isn't aware of it.

_I see, he just found me by listening to my voice_, reasons Bai Xue. _No matter, I'll just shut up from now on. What can he do now?_

As if to answer, Shirou takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"_I am the bone of my sword."_

* * *

"Rider? Did you hear what I said?" asks Akiko, with a snap of the tongue.

"...Why must we team up with that man?"

"Berserker is incredibly powerful, so we want him on our side. Matou-san has already agreed to it."

"...I won't do it."

"...Rider, do you dare disobey my-"

A cold, steel blade ruptures Akiko's abdomen. Rider ends his master's life before she could even use a command spell, and her face solidifies, forever frozen in that horrible miscegenation of agony and disbelief. It is oft forgotten that it very much hurts to die.

"I can't stand that man, and I can't stand you."

Akiko's body falls to the floor, and Rider stares at it in disinterest. After a moment's pause, he draws the tarnished blade from her belly and wipes it on her trenchcoat. Her blood begins to stain the carpet, and her command spell fades from her hand.

Rider begins to feel detached from the world—the world is rejecting his existence since he has no prana source. He must find a new master.


End file.
